


Let's Get This Over With

by Cutebutpsycho



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-03
Updated: 2017-02-23
Packaged: 2018-09-21 20:40:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9565385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cutebutpsycho/pseuds/Cutebutpsycho
Summary: “I see no point in sugar coating this,” he replied. “I’m not interested in a relationship. But for some reason my body wants this even though my brain doesn’t and I find myself puzzling overwhat you would look like naked. Specifically, your nipples. They’re probably normal and straightforward, but for some reason I find the need to know for sure.”Based on the song "Let's Have Intercourse" from Crazy Ex Girlfriend (aka the song that starts every fanfic ever).





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [OccasionallyCreative](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OccasionallyCreative/gifts).



> First up, big thanks to GS Jenner and OccasionallyCreative for their beta work and dealing with my questions of "YES, BUT IS IT SMUTTY ENOUGH?"
> 
> Have fun!

“Unfortunately I want to have sex with you.”

“Excuse me? This is why you had your assistant shove me in a car and bring you to me?”

Detective Sally Donovan stared incredulously at the man sitting across the desk from her. For awhile she didn’t think anyone could be more annoying than Sherlock Holmes. Then she met his older brother Mycroft. Balding, beaky, pale and irritating, she couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth.

“That’s perhaps the worst chat-up line I’ve ever heard and I’ve had people send me pictures of their willies going, ‘You up?’”

“I see no point in sugar coating this,” he replied. “I’m not interested in a relationship. But for some reason my body wants this even though my brain doesn’t and I find myself puzzling over what you would look like naked. Specifically, your nipples. They’re probably normal and straightforward, but for some reason I find the need to know for sure.”

Sally felt her ears burn with mortification, which made her angry. Why the hell should she feel embarrassed for what he said? It wasn’t her problem.  She had never thought of him as attractive after that initial meeting where his assistant sidled up to her, shoved her in the backseat of a town car and hauled her to an abandoned factory for him to lecture her on the proper protocol in handling his brother.

She never found him attractive. Annoying, snotty and overly-entitled, yes, but attractive? No.

And the worst part now was how nonplussed he looked. As if he was commenting on the weather instead of her breasts.

“That’s not my problem,” she replied. “You do realize that most people just masturbate yeah?”

“It doesn’t work because I don’t have any data to use for the fantasy,” he snapped. “To be brutally honest, I’ve tried, but all I get is a large blank right below your neck and that’s not working at all.”

“My body looks like Thandie Newton’s --” Sally began, but he cut her off.

“Just pretend I’m seducing you,” Mycroft said, as if he didn’t hear her. “I just want to get this done and over with so we can get on with our busy lives. It shouldn’t take too long.”

“That’s the only thing I’m certain of,” Sally muttered.

“Pardon?” One eyebrow raised up a micrometer, which brought her some glee. In Mycroft Holmes body language that meant that she had annoyed him.

“You heard me,” she said. “Fine. For England. I figure this shouldn’t take too long -- what? Twenty minutes at the most? Do you mind if I read the paper while you satisfy your curiosity?”

The corner of his lip turned up into a sneer, “I’ll have you know, I’m certain I will have you screaming my name twice in twenty minutes.”

“I don’t think you’re even going to last twenty minutes,” she snorted.

“Is that a challenge?” His lips curled into a feral sneer. “Because I’m sure that’s a challenge you will lose.”

After how condescending he had been to her for so many years, it was so damn refreshing to see him lose his cool. Sally leaned back, put her feet on his desk, savoring how peeved he looked, then spoke two words:

“Bring it.”

Two hours later Sally found herself in perhaps one of the most luxurious hotels in London staring down Mycroft Holmes. If the whole thing wasn’t so damned ridiculous, she would have taken a moment to enjoy the sumptuous surroundings -- the fact that the walls were clad in silk for God’s sake -- and the plush bedding. Instead, she was staring down Mycroft, who was standing at the other side of the bed, studying her.

 _Okay, okay, okay, okay_ she thought to herself. There was no way in hell she was going to back down. He looked like the type who would come from the missionary position after five minutes then fall asleep for twelve hours.

Focusing on his stare, she removed her jacket and draped it on a chair. He mimicked her action, removing the navy suit coat and draping it at the foot of the bed. Next, she unbuttoned her blouse and let it drop to the floor.

Mycroft undid the cufflinks, taking care to put them on the nightstand, before unbuttoning his shirt and having it slide off his shoulders. Sally smiled at the undershirt, feeling weirdly comfortable standing there in her Marks and Sparks cotton bra. Suddenly he didn’t seem so mighty -- unless it was mighty ordinary.

But before she could do more, he made the next move, toeing off his shoes and removing his socks. Sally mirrored him, then unbuttoned her slacks, feeling them slide down her legs. If it was anyone else, she would’ve felt embarrassed that her underwear didn’t match her bra, but this wasn’t a matter of impressing him. It was a matter of proving that she was better than him in this area. Sex wasn’t about underwear -- she knew that. It was technique and she had that in spades.

Then he undid his belt and unbuttoned his slacks.

Three

Two

One

The trousers hit the floor. Mycroft Holmes was standing in a white undershirt and navy blue boxers, staring at her. Instead of the usual contempt, the gaze was warmer and a slight smile played on his lips. The silence was unbearable.

“Yes, I know my underwear doesn’t match,” Sally snapped, suddenly feeling insecure.

“It’s exactly what I expected,” he said.

“Shut up,” Sally struggled with undoing her bra, which then fell to the ground.

Mycroft followed suit, removing his shirt. He wasn’t excessively fit -- which would have been weird given his face. He looked perfectly ordinary, pale and freckled with a dusting of dark reddish hair on his chest. He reddened slightly, but hooked his fingers on the elastic waistband and pulled them down.

Yup. Perfectly ordinary, Sally thought to herself.

In a way, it was comforting. If he had been excessively endowed or fit, it would’ve been harder for Sally. Now she didn’t feel like she was too soft or not fit. If anything, she felt a little more fit than him, which made her proud.

She slid her knickers down, then kicked them to the side.

The silence stretched as they studied each other.

“So do you have enough for your spank bank?” Sally asked.

“You do realize I need more than just your physical appearance. I need data on how you respond to things,” he retorted.

“So does the twenty minutes start now?”

He nodded, setting a timer on his phone and setting it on the nightstand.

Sally sat on the bed, swung her legs around and crawled to him, until they were nose to nose. “Be prepared to lose mate,” she smirked, then licked him on the nose.

He smiled -- a real, genuine smile. “I’m prepared to see you call me a winner,” Mycroft replied, inhaling her scent, his hands barely hovering over her skin.

Once, when Sally was learning martial arts, her teacher talked about the concept of _chi_ and how its energy could flow from one person to another. Being practical and pragmatic, Sally never believed that until this moment. Feeling his hands hovering over her arms, her back, her bum, Sally wanted _more_. But was going to be damned if she admitted that to him.

And then he touched her, feather light, one palm sliding between her shoulder blades. Sally closed her eyes, savoring the warmth that was enveloping her. His other hand came forward, gently cradling her right breast, his thumb lazily stroking her nipple.

Even though she didn’t want it and mentally she was thinking _uh body what?_ Sally let out an involuntary sigh as the hand on the back slid down to the small of her back.

“Yes your nipples are straightforward,” she heard him whisper. She could feel his breath along her collarbones, which made her body react in an unexpected manner. Then she felt his lips connect with a nipple. The wet heat from his mouth on her caused her back to arch. She let out a moan as his tongue teased the nub of skin to hardness.

Feeling his eyes on her, Sally opened hers. His expression was playful as he pulled away, blowing on the nipple.

“Completely straightforward,” he said.

She couldn’t help it -- she began laughing. “Oh shut up,” she said, smacking him gently on the chest.

His expression flashed back to analytical as he pushed her backwards, hands moving down her thighs. Sally let out another soft moan, losing herself to his ministrations. She could feel his fingers gently toying around her labia, teasing her.

“I can tell you like that,” she heard him say. “And I have fifteen more minutes to get you to scream my name twice.”

 _Arrogant sod_ , Sally thought as her eyes flashed open and she stared down at him. He was definitely smirking. It was time to turn the tables. Her hand slid down and gently grasped him. She grinned at the way his eyes fluttered at the sensation.

Her grip tightened and she watched with pleasure as he shuddered and let out a low groan. Leaning forward, she sunk her teeth into his shoulder, nipping gently.

“Good to remember that I’ve got fifteen minutes to make you come,” she chuckled, then continued to nibble her way downward. Before she could protest, she could feel him shifting so his head was between her legs.

“I do love a challenge,” he said, before he placed a wet kiss along her inner thigh.

 _Okay, okay, okay_ Sally thought to herself as her tongue swirled around his foreskin and she began an act of fellatio that she hoped would distract him.

Upon reflection later, Sally wouldn’t be able to explain what Mycroft did with her. It was hot, cold, wet and ticklish, but also firm and demanding. There was some gentle sucking involved and she could feel that tension beginning to snap.

_Focus. Roadkill. That time you walked in on Mum and Dad having sex. Nickelback._

Then he slid a finger into her -- were his fingers really that long? -- and crooked them just so. She could feel herself quaking, hips twitching and shaking. She slid one hand towards the back, toying with his arse.

But it was too late. His fingers gently found that magic spot and she gasped, pulling away from his prick, rubbing her cheek along his thigh as the orgasm slammed into her. Her hips convulsed and he refused to let go, his hands keeping a firm grip on her. He wasn’t going to let up, she realized. Not until she screamed his name.

 _He’s going to tire out,_ she thought. _He has to tire out._

Another finger slid into her. That was when the battle was lost and  she involuntarily let out a long, loud moan of his name. “Mycroft,” she moaned, twisting her hips, trying to wiggle from his grasp. “It’s too much.”

He pulled back, hair mussed and a victorious smile on his face. “That’s one,” he said. “And now for two.”

With more strength than she anticipated, he lay back, pulling her on top of him. Sally smirked. The beauty of this position was that she had an advantage in controlling when she came. Hopefully that would be after he did.

“How many minutes do we have left?” she asked, watching him fumble for a condom that was on the nightstand next to the phone.

“Five.”

She took the condom from him. “Piece of cake,” she said, rolling the condom on him.

The slide down on his prick was lovely. The way his eyes fluttered and he let out that groan of satisfaction made Sally think that she was going to win the bet. That was, until his hands grabbed her hips again and he began to angle her body.

For someone who looked like he saw sex like other people viewed filing taxes, Mycroft was surprisingly good at it, Sally mused as he hit that same sensitive spot inside her. Sally let out a gasp as he grinned and began to thrust.

 _Like hell I’m going to lose_ she thought as she tipped forward and swiveled her hips, enjoying the groan he let out. They began to move faster, instinct taking over. Mycroft sat up, mouthing her neck, licking a bead of sweat off of her. One hand moved to between her legs as he toyed with her clit.

She clenched around him, loving the fact that he was grunting and picking up the pace also. If she could do that one more time --

And then he kissed her, hard and demanding. His fingers continued their assault and she felt the orgasm slam into her again -- the build-up was instantaneous. She gasped for air, moaning his name.

With that, she faintly heard a low chuckle of victory, until she squeezed around him again and then the chuckle turned into a groan as he rolled on top of her, pinning her down and pulling her legs up around his waist as he came. A few final thrusts and he stilled, staring down at her. A soft smile that reached to his eyes played on his lips.

The timer went off -- a faint song jangling.

Sally was the first one to laugh, her hands going to tangle in his hair, pulling him down for a kiss. This time it wasn’t hard and demanding, but sweeter. It felt more like a gentle greeting, which he welcomed tenderly.

“I think we both lost,” she said, after he pulled away.

“Indeed,” he replied, rolling the condom off of him. After disposing of it, he lay next to her. They both stared at the ceiling, waiting for their heartbeat to return to normal.

The silence was comfortable and Sally found herself seeking his hand, holding it. Giving it a squeeze, she broke the silence.

“Best two out of three?”

“Well it would be a shame to let this room go to waste.”

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I thought it was a one-shot. And then Silberias suggested I write the other two matches and things got out of hand, so you guys get to benefit. Have fun with the smut!

The funny thing about being locked in a hotel room together is that all sense of time goes out the window. Instead of getting a sense of time based on meetings, appointments, mealtimes and other schedules, time is gauged by baser needs such as hunger, sleep, going to the bathroom and lust.

Especially lust for Mycroft. Like a teetotaller falling off the wagon, he found instead of his urges sated, they had come roaring to life, gluttonous and ravenous.

It wasn’t his entire fault, he reasoned. Sally had agreed to this encounter, nay, she challenged him and his skills, assuming he was on par with a university lad. Even though he didn’t have a reputation to protect, Mycroft was offended by that very suggestion. It also wasn’t his fault that she had suggested going for another few rounds, which enabled his indulgence.

Perhaps this was the problem of remaining celibate for so long, he mused when he had a private moment in the bathroom. Maybe if he had given himself a small diet of escorts like his colleagues then he wouldn’t be in this position.

Not that it was a terrible position, he realized as he watched Sally as she studied the well cultivated garden that was within easy view of their window. She was wearing a dressing gown, loosely tied around her waist -- so loosely tied that it opened in a plunging vee, barely covering her perfectly normal breasts with the straightforward nipples. He was stretched out on the bed, robe barely covering him. Their intermingled scent was strong and it made his prick stir again.

Even though he knew he should be checking reports and calling people, the reality was that he could slip away for twenty-four hours to work this out of his system. Plans were in motion and it really was a matter of busywork that could wait a bit. People seeking favors could wait. He needed to get this out of his system. 

It’s an emotional cheat meal, he thought, savoring the way the afternoon light struck her lush curls, giving her a golden halo. There was something about the way the light hit her brown skin that made her more striking than previously thought. Mycroft dismissed that as sentiment. Once he got this out of his system, he would be fine.

“I’m hungry,” Sally said, breaking the silence. “Are you hungry?”

“Room service should be here soon.”

“You’re not worried about people discovering the mighty Mycroft Holmes in a hotel room with a woman?”

“If it happens,” he began thoughtfully, “It might improve my relations with other people because they’ll think I’m just like them. Whenever people feel comfortable like that, they confide in you more.”

“Riiiiggggghhhttt,” Sally sat next to Mycroft on the bed. It was clear that she believed him -- her tone had the underlying message of  _ why didn’t I think of that? _

A thin, brittle silence tinged by boredom spread over them. Neither was sure what to say to the other person. Under normal circumstances, most people started with conversation, then ended with sex, not the other way around. It was like Parade’s End where Mycroft couldn’t talk to Sally until they had sex. Lots and lots of sex. It was annoying to be such a cliche.

“Let’s play a game,” Sally spoke, rousing Mycroft from his reveries. “Have you ever heard of Two Lies and a Truth?”

“Child’s play,” he said. “But go on.”

“How about we make it interesting?” She was thinking out loud as she was describing the game to Mycroft. “We have three rounds -- each round someone gets to tell two lies and a truth. If you figure out what’s the truth and win, you can do whatever you want to that person for a minute. If you can make your opponent blow their top before the end of the game, you win.”

“I take it this is round two of our challenge?” It was intriguing and definitely more interesting that the game in the past. With this there were so many variables to take into account in addition to looking for the usual tells. 

“Yup,” Sally said. “And right now neither of us have won anything, given the last go.”

“Deal,” he said. “Ladies first.”

Sally faced him, crossing her legs and took a deep breath. Exhaling she said, “I’ve never been to India, I don’t like wine and I’m allergic to cats.”

“You are allergic to cats” Mycroft quickly said. The previous two statements had a slight hesitation before them which indicated a lie to him. He also found himself wondering when she had been to India, a detail which escaped him before. 

She grinned, then set her phone’s timer. 

With that, Mycroft leaned forward and kissed her. Her mouth opened under his and his tongue swiped along her lower lip. There was a low moan from her as the kiss deepened and his arms wound in her hair. He was rewarded with a soft sigh that sent a shiver straight to his cock.

Then the timer beeped.

They pulled away. 

“Your turn,” Sally said. 

“I was sent to boarding school as a child, I have a sister and I am named after an eccentric uncle.”

Sally snorted. “You have a sister,” she replied. “I’ve heard Greg talk about her,” for a moment her expression changed to something that Mycroft despised -- pity. “I’m sorry about what she did.”

Mycroft shook away the comfort, “Enough of that,” he said. “It was also my fault. I tried to make it --” but something made him stop himself from continuing. It was a mistake that didn’t need to be revisited right now even though the guilt still hung on him.

“I get it,” she said. “Besides, that’s a boner killer and I need to win.” Sally leaned over and set the timer, then climbed into his lap. “Let’s not talk about family issues,” she said, grinding her hips into his.

His erection started to rise again as he sucked in a breath. She was warm -- the terry cloth of the robe was the only thing separating them and he braced himself on his hands, watching in fascination as the robe slipped open, allowing him a glimpse of her dark brown skin. He caught her staring at him with a devilish smile on her face as she leaned in and nibbled on his collarbone. Her teeth were sharp and the scrape of them on his flesh sent shivers down his spine.

Before she could do more havoc, the timer beeped again and she pulled away. 

“Round two,” she chirped. “I own a dishwasher, my favorite ice cream is toasted coconut and I once got into a bar fight when I was 16.”

Mycroft inhaled, trying to discern the logic and truth despite being primarily ruled by the lust-fogged lizard portion of his brain. “Your favorite ice cream is toasted coconut,” he hesitated for a moment.

“Nope,” Sally cackled, setting the timer for two minutes. “But I do own a dishwasher. Love it. Best thing in my flat.”

Before he could react, she was pushing him back, taking him in her mouth. A swipe of her tongue across his tip made him hiss as his hands scrabbled for purchase on the pillows. His hips arched as she moved at an agonizingly slow pace. Somehow she was keeping suction on him, while moving her tongue. 

_ How the hell does she do this?  _ He thought as she lead him out to the edge, only to have the timer ping. Sally pulled away with a innocent smile as he let out a frustrated groan. 

Seating herself across from him cross legged, she didn’t bother adjusting her robe, which was now open and hanging loose. 

“Your turn.”

Mycroft took a deep breath trying to take control from his lizard brain. “I know how to play the piano, I don’t like Scotch and I’ve never seen an episode of Red Dwarf,” he stammered out, unsure of what he was saying.

“You’ve never seen Red Dwarf,” Sally quickly said. “I don’t think you’re the type to own a television set.”

“I play the piano,” he grinned. “I saw one episode of Red Dwarf in University when I tried to make friends.”  _ That was a mistake _ , he thought as he pushed her robe off her shoulders. His hands moved to gently squeeze her breasts. Ducking his down, he licked the underside of her breast, nipping and sucking. 

He was rewarded with a low moan as her hands wound in his hair. She gave a sharp tug as he moved to the other breast, lavishing it with the same attention. He could hear her breaths coming out in ragged pants. Taking advantage of the situation, the other hand slipped between her legs to toy with her labia. 

Before he could slide a finger into her, the timer chirped.

Mycroft pulled away while Sally let out a frustrated cry, which made him oddly proud. 

“Do you want to forfeit?” he smirked.

“No,” Sally spit out after a couple of deep breaths. “I’m just upset because those are the fingers of a pianist. How did I not know that?”

He smiled. 

“Okay, so,” Sally took another deep breath, and smoothed her curls, obviously trying to calm herself. “I used to do gymnastics, I kissed Greg and I know how to make a great lasagna.”

Mycroft pressed his fingers together and thought. “The lasagna is banal, but that could be a distraction,” he mused. “While you’re flexible, you’re not unusually so I’d eliminate gymnastics. So you snogged your boss.”

Sally laughed, “Christmas party. I was drunk, he was divorced, it was awkward and we have never spoken of it since admitting it was a bad idea. I thought I could fool you.”

“Nice try,” he said pushing her backwards, and spreading her legs. Hovering over her, Mycroft smiled again. He couldn’t recall smiling so much in the past twenty four hours. “But at least we can continue what we were doing before,” he whispered into her ear before kissing her. As he kissed her, his fingers slipped into her folds, gently stroking. She was wet and warm, slick and all sorts of good adjectives that his brain couldn’t come up with at the moment because all he could think about was sliding into her. 

“Come on Mycroft,” Sally panted out, pulling away from him. “You know you want to.”

“But I’m close to winning,” he whispered, crooking his fingers and relishing the way she arched her back. 

“It could make things interesting,” she moaned out. “Besides, room service will be here soon. Let’s finish this up. You know you want to.”

He chuckled. She was absolutely right -- there was nothing more intoxicating than her in this moment. The way her body responded to his touch was electric and he found himself craving more of the sensation of fucking her.  “To make things interesting,” he said as he got another condom and rolled it on. Spreading her legs further apart, he pushed in, letting out a long, low groan of satisfaction. 

Sally’s legs wrapped around him and she arched her hips up as he began to thrust. She giggled, hands sliding down to his hips, nails digging into his buttocks. Her words got filthier, urging him on. Mycroft’s hands slid between them as he toyed with her clit. Sally’s back arched and one hand went to toy with her nipple. He could feel her clench around him as she came, letting out a long, keening wail. She was hot and slick and in that moment, as his orgasm overtook him, everything for once felt perfect.


	3. Chapter 3

Sally stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Her hair was unruly, with some curls matted and some springing forth from her head. Her eye makeup was smudged and her lipstick had worn off long ago. But there was a glow to her that she hadn’t seen in awhile, which made her grin crookedly. “That is the face of a well-fucked person,” she murmured under her breath. 

Part of her worried what would happen after all of this, but she forcefully squashed that thought out of her head as she roughly finger combed her hair into something tamer and washed the makeup off her face. The toiletries in the loo were luxurious and wonderfully scented, cleaning her face with ease. After washing her face, she studied her reflection.

_ Fuck feeling bad _ , she thought to herself.  _ I deserve this. I haven’t had fun since I started in that new division and I needed this. It doesn’t matter if it’s with some desperate middle-aged auditor. He fucks like how Tom Hardy looks. He needs to blow off steam, I need to blow off steam, that’s all this is. _

She fluffed her hair, smiled at herself and left the bathroom, vowing to eat as much as she could and have as much fun as possible before checkout tomorrow. 

The afternoon tea service was laid out and a level of opulence that Sally had never seen before. She had done high tea for special occasions, but this was a different world than what she was accustomed. There was a bottle of rose chilling in a bucket, a tiered tray of scones with clotted cream and a tray of crustless sandwiches. 

“Mycroft,” she started, “This is insane. You didn’t have to do all of this --” her voice trailed off.

He was seated in a chair, overlooking the garden. Fingers steepled, his gaze was unfocused. It was clear he had withdrawn into himself. 

Sally approached him cautiously. He seemed to be lost in his thoughts, a melancholy tinge to his expression. Sally gently placed her hand on his shoulder. 

“Mycroft,” she repeated. 

He blinked, shook his head once, then snapped into focus. The pensive expression vanished and the cool contempt returned.  His eyes met hers. “Yes?” he asked.

She ran a hand down his cheek. “Are you all right?”

“Perfectly fine,” a quick smile flitted across his face, “Just enjoying the view.”

She knew he was lying, he knew she knew he was lying and she knew all of this, but Sally decided not to burst the delicate bubble by seeking the truth. “I was just saying that this is too much. You’re too kind.”

“It’s no trouble,” he said. 

~*~

It was so embarrassing, Mycroft chided himself. He couldn’t enjoy this moment without sliding into his fortress. It was a moment of weakness that irritated him. 

_ Of course you can't enjoy this. People like you don't enjoy things like this,  _ his thoughts hissed after he had allowed room service in and Sally excused herself to the bathroom.  _ What has sentiment ever done for you? It only causes trouble.  _

Somewhere, another portion of his mind spoke against that.  _ What do you know? You've never indulged until now.  _

_ How do you know this is even sentiment? My God. You're getting sentimental. You don't even know if there are reciprocal feelings. Are you really that thick? This could be a business transaction.  _

_ Think about the times you've used sentiment -- trying to protect your parents from the truth about their daughter. Trying to contain your sister and occasionally indulge her whims. That ended well for you didn't it? So many people died because of that decision. You hurt everyone when they found out. You failed on so many levels. _

_ You don’t even deserve this because you couldn’t think clear with that sentiment.  _

_ I tried to protect them,  _ he protested. 

_ And that worked out so well didn't it? No, you've had enough of this. One night. You've caused enough trouble. You’ll destroy this too if left to your own devices. _

“Mycroft,” he felt a touch on his shoulder, bringing him back to reality. Sally’s touch was gentle, anchoring him in the moment. The thoughts scattered like crows taking flight and he glanced up at her.

“Yes?”

“Are you all right?” He resisted the urge to lean into her hand as it stroked his cheek.  _ You don’t deserve this _ , his thoughts whispered. 

“Perfectly fine,” he lied. “Just enjoying the view.”

Judging by the expression of concern that flitted across her face, she knew he lied. Even though the majority of him was pleased that she didn’t pursue it, a small part of him wished she probed a little deeper to find the truth.

~*~

“Champagne for my real friends, real pain for my sham friends,” Sally clinked her flute against Mycroft’s, then sipped the rose.

“Bacon?” he asked.

“I always heard it was Tom Waits,” she grinned mischievously.

“It’s an age old quote,” Mycroft said, reaching for a finger sandwich, “Dates back to the nineteenth century, when it was used as a toast.”

Sally grabbed a cucumber sandwich and took a nibble, letting out a small sigh of satisfaction. “This is amazing,” she said. “This blows the high tea for my auntie out of the water. And I didn’t even have to get dressed for it.”

Maybe it was the second -- or was it third? -- glass of champagne, but Sally finally felt brave enough to ask a question that was bobbing in the back of her mind. “Why me?”

“Pardon?”

“Why me?” 

Mycroft finished his flute and took another sandwich. Taking a neat bite, he looked thoughtful. “Why did you say yes?”

“I asked first,” she giggled.

“I’ll answer if you answer,” his expression was practically playful. 

Sally poured another glass of champagne for Mycroft and topped hers off, before settling in his lap, with a petite four. “Only because you wooed me with this service,” she said, breaking off a piece of her pastry and slipping it into his mouth. 

She grinned wickedly as he licked the chocolate off her fingertips. There was a smidge of chocolate at the corner of her mouth and Sally leaned forward, licking it off of his face enjoying the way she surprised him, judging by the way he sucked in a breath.

“I agreed,” she said, pulling away, “because,” she made a face, trying to find the words. “I honestly don’t know why. Which isn’t a compliment, I know, but your starting line wasn’t great either.”

She sipped her champagne, frustrated. Mycroft’s expression was blandly interested, but she was certain he was enjoying watching her squirm as she tried to articulate her thoughts.  _ Never have half a bottle of champers then try and talk about feelings _ , she chided herself. 

“I needed to blow off steam,” she finally spit out, “And you’re one of the last connections to my old life.”

An eyebrow raised, inquisitively. “Oh come on,” she giggled, feeling suddenly vulnerable. “You know I’ve been promoted to lead a division.”

One curt nod. “Congratulations on that,” he said, “It’s a well deserved promotion.”

Sally took another sip of her champagne and finished the pastry. “It is, but it’s still terrible,” she admitted. “New office, new people, new annoyances.”

“Change often brings that.”

“Yeah and you don’t realize what you miss until it’s gone,” she admitted, taking another sip.

He nodded, understanding what she meant. She didn’t have to say that she missed the morning coffee run with Lestrade, that easy banter with coworkers that she knew for years and knowing the ins and outs of that office with the same ease as breathing. 

“And even though you have more power, you feel diminished,” he added as he topped her flute, pulling her out of her thoughts.

“There’s been whispers that I’m the ‘twofer’ to help their diversity numbers,” Sally said.

“They obviously don’t know how intelligent you are,” Mycroft said. 

Her eyes widened. “Oh my,” she said. “That is a compliment because I know it’s true if it comes from you.”

He snorted, then readjusted her in his lap so they could see each other more easily. Pushing an errant curl out of her eyes, he continued. “You have potential to be a great leader, if your self-doubt doesn’t sabotage you,” he said. “The problem of being one of the first through the door is that you will be dogged by those words. It’s not comfortable and maybe they thought of you as that when they hired you, but it does not matter if you know your worth and know you can prove it.”

Sally’s heart fluttered. Setting the flute down on the table, her hands went to his face and he closed his eyes, savoring the touch. “Mycroft Holmes,” she said, “That is perhaps the most romantic thing anyone’s ever said to me.” 

Before he could say something sardonic, she leaned forward, kissing him. Her hands tangled in his hair as she pulled him closer and the kiss deepened. He let out a soft moan, his hands pulling her closer and she moved to straddle him. They pulled away, panting for a moment. 

His stare was unnerving in the moment. Mycroft’s expression was softer, bathed in wonderment and it made Sally wonder what the hell they were getting themselves into.  _ Ah fuck it _ , her thoughts piped up.  _ You know you want this so be brave and go for it. _

“Maybe that’s why I agreed to this,” she said. “It’s nice being with someone who doesn’t bullshit you. Even if they have terrible starting lines.”

He began laughing and her laughter joined his, brightening the room.

“Maybe that’s why I asked,” he mused, after the laughter died down. 

“Maybe I wouldn’t be averse to doing this again.”

His eyebrows raised in surprise. 

“Oh don’t look so shocked,” Sally giggled. “I don’t know if this is like a long term thing or love or anything like that, but I can tell you right now I really am enjoying this and I can tell you are too.” She punctuated that last sentence with a grind of her hips against his, watching his eyelids flutter at the sensation.

If Sally was a lesser woman -- which she knew she wasn’t -- she wouldn’t have noticed the flicker of panic that flitted by in his eyes before he gave into her machinations. But she chose to ignore it. She wasn’t going to probe any deeper than he was willing to reveal right now. Especially if he kept doing that thing with his tongue on her nipples, which he began doing, silencing any worries in her head. 

~*~

Like any drug trip, with every high, there was the inevitable crash.

By now, Mycroft was familiar with the rhythms of this habit, but the intensity of the crash was always a surprise. Like a sucker punch, the approach was always new, but the ending remained the same.

_ She’s quite beautiful,  _ his thoughts began sweetly.

It was 12:02 in the morning. Mycroft was awake, laying beside Sally, watching her sleep. Her mouth was open slightly and she breathed deeply. The smell of their last encounter still hung in the air, heavy and thick.  _ As prime as goats, as hot as monkeys _ , he had thought when he took her one more time from behind, hands grasping her hips -- there was something about the way her hips were shaped that lent an place for his hands to grab -- and his teeth nipping on her shoulder. She had squealed and bucked, grabbing onto the headboard for balance until she came, her hips slamming into his. 

Even though sleep came easily for her, it eluded Mycroft.

_ She’s quite responsive isn’t she?  _ His thoughts started, with a false sweetness that grated his teeth. 

_ The last one who was that responsive was who? Logan? Katherine? But I don’t think they screamed your name as sweetly as she just did. Whatever happened to them? _

Mycroft closed his eyes, unbidden memories rising like an unanchored corpse bobbing up in a river.

_ I don’t know. _

_ Of course you don’t know. Because you ran away. Why? _

_ I’m a coward _ , Mycroft knew this script well and hoped by giving those thoughts what they wanted, they’d leave him in peace. Sally would wake up, they’d fuck once, have a nice breakfast, maybe have another shag and then depart on friendly terms, appetites sated.

_ Actually no, _ the thoughts piped up.  _ Really, you’re brave. You’re protecting them from the inevitable disappointment. _

He blinked.  _ Pardon? _

_ You’re really not good at this. How long would it be before your true nature showed up? Your impatience with others and how slow they are? Your need for solitude? Your overbearing nature that would end up smothering them at one point, only to leave them isolated in another? That hot and cold behavior is less than charming, you realize.  _

_ You don’t know how to relate to people for emotional intimacy _ , his thoughts continued, casually, as if they were remarking on the weather. Mycroft ran his hand down Sally’s back in vain, trying to anchor himself in reality. Sally let out a soft sigh and snuggled closer. She hadn’t promised anything more than what he could handle. She just offered him another opportunity for intercourse, which he was grateful for to be honest. Having a safe outlet would be better than the spiral that he knew he was getting into.

_ You’re an emotional vampire, _ the thoughts said.  _ Come on -- you have nothing to offer her except some facsimile of connection. You know how to play the caring lover, but on closer inspection? They dull your senses and you end up hurting them as you leave. Just go now. Save her years of resentment and pain that leaves a bitter husk when it’s inevitably broken off.  _

_ I could -- _

_ YOU CAN’T _ the thoughts echoed.  _ You know you can’t. You’re virtually incapable of feeling anything so why bother with the pretense? Just go. You can’t handle this because you’re a bloody machine. Any bit of emotional grit in this is going to ruin you. Well, you’re already a mess, but do you need to drag everyone else down with you?  _

Then silence, except for the clock ticking. 

Mycroft knew the thoughts were correct. The last time he tried to protect everyone and contain everything it ended with people dead. He didn’t deserve this thread of kindness that Sally offered.

Sliding away from her, Mycroft slipped out of bed and got dressed. Scrawling a note on the notepad, he slipped out of the room. Setting up a generous line of credit to allow Sally to enjoy breakfast alone and a decent time to depart, he congratulated himself on that small bit of kindness.

_ It’s what I can do to prevent more damage _ , he thought as he exited, trying to obliterate all memories of her.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Second to last chapter! I hope you enjoy it! Thanks for reading.

In times like this, Diogenes wasn’t safe. People knew him and even though there was no talking there, there was no promise that people there wouldn’t talk elsewhere. 

No, in times like this, it was easier to slip away to some after-hours bar. Blending into the crowd was the best way for solitude instead of seeking isolation among other hermits. Even though most bars closed by the time Mycroft left -- no, fled -- the hotel, there was always a pub with drawn curtains on the windows and a doorman accepting cash. It wasn’t his habit to frequent them, but Mycroft knew one well enough that the doorman didn’t blink when he paid to enter, armed with a takeaway bag of shawarma and chips. 

That was another thing he was annoyed about whenever these urges would take him -- after the physical encounter, there was the overwhelming need to eat and drink because those needs were left neglected during his bacchanalia.

Fanning out the bills for a bottle of Scotch, Mycroft took the bottle and a glass and skulked into a nearby booth. He hoped to wait out the storm until his senses were dulled enough to fake normalcy.

Opening the bottle, he poured a good sized glass and took a deep drink. Instead of peace, he felt the spectre of Sally wind around him, fingers toying with his hair and her voice purring in his ear. He could still smell her on his skin, which made him ache to return to the hotel and the warm bed. Certainly his prick thought he should just return.

_ This one is going to take awhile _ , he thought to himself, taking another sip.  _ Let’s just get it over with. _

“The Claridge’s situation?” a familiar voice jolted him back to reality. “Who was is this time?”

Mycroft sighed. “Does it even matter?” he asked. “Can’t you just leave me in peace?”

Sherlock slid into the bench across from him. Producing an empty glass, he poured himself some Scotch and took a sip, then grimaced. “This is the third time since Sherrinford,” he said. 

“And I’m fine,” Mycroft cut his brother off. In his slightly inebriated state, he noticed that Sherlock looked disheveled. Even though he was clean shaven, it was clear he had been out and walking for several hours. “Besides, it’s obvious that you still need to confront Doctor Hooper about what you told her. I can tell you’ve been walking all evening -- how many times have you circled her flat looking for the right words to say?”

Sherlock reached over and popped a chip into his mouth, to Mycroft’s irritation. “Perhaps I was out to give John a bit of peace because Rosie has been colicky and Mrs. Hudson offered to watch her for a bit so he could sleep.” He reached over and tried to take Mycroft’s shawarma.

Mycroft slapped at his hands. “Do you mind? I’m ravenous,” he snapped. “Go get your own food.” Seeing his baby brother’s hurt expression, he ripped it in half and handed it to him. “Here,” he huffed. “Now stop pouting. How did you find me?”

“You’re utterly predictable,” Sherlock said between bites. “Anthea contacted me and said she was concerned about your behavior. You had disappeared for a ‘meeting’,” he snorted, “Only to call later and say you needed your calendar cleared for the next twenty-four hours. We all know what that means. You’re lucky she’s discreet and loyal to you.”

Mycroft sighed, picking at his food, his appetite suddenly gone. 

“So who is it this time? Male? Female? One of each?” Sherlock gave him a pitying glance, which infuriated Mycroft. “What was it this time? Wit? Charm? A warmth that you craved? A need to impress someone with how well you knew them in a few short hours?”

Mycroft pursed his lips then closed his eyes. Sherlock tried to grab for the other half of the shawarma, but Mycroft grabbed it and shoved it in his mouth. It was more of an act of defiance than anything else, for the meat was overseasoned and had a shoe leather texture.  Normally he wouldn’t have done that, but Sherlock was being especially irritating.

Not to mention, with a full mouth, he didn’t have to talk, which meant Sherlock could just babble until he exhausted himself. But at that moment, Mycroft honestly hoped he would choke to death so he wouldn’t hear his brother’s prattling.

“-- The last one was Lady Smallwood, who I thought would be a good match for you --” Sherlock’s voice jolted him back to reality, “Given that you both are similar in temperament.”

“Too businesslike,” Mycroft regretted engaging with Sherlock. “It was disconcerting at meetings.”

“Ah, so you had feelings for her and she did not reciprocate in the manner you wished,” Sherlock said, snatching the remaining chips. “That is not the position you like. You’d rather run than be the hurt one. No one else can hurt you but you,” Sherlock sing-songed the last word, stretching out the “ooo” sound.

Mycroft finished his drink, then poured himself another. “Why on earth are you here crowing over my woes when there is a woman out there who you need to explain yourself to? I know you’ve been avoiding her since Eurus’ experiment. It should be easy to explain to her what happened.”

It was Sherlock’s turn to slam his head against the back of the booth. “It’s not that simple,” he started.

“Given you were an utter prat with her in the past, you don’t think she’s going to believe you.”

Silence. Mycroft savored that moment, knowing he had cut into Sherlock.

“You do realize not talking to her is making this worse,” Mycroft needled.

“You do realize you’re being annoying,” Sherlock mimicked Mycroft’s tone. 

More silence. The brothers finished their drinks. Then poured more drinks. Then drank the drinks. Then poured more drinks. They drank the drinks. The rhythm was comfortable and Mycroft hoped against hope that sooner or later Sherlock would be bored and leave him alone.

After awhile, Sherlock dug into his coat pocket and produced a pack of cigarettes. Flashing it in Mycroft’s direction, he made a head motion and headed out the door.  _ The bastard _ , Mycroft thought as the desire for a cigarette rose in his belly. Mycroft sighed, finished his drink, grabbed the bottle and headed outside two minutes later.

A lit cigarette greeted him and he accepted it. Inhaling deeply, Mycroft savored the way the tobacco calmed his jangled nerves. 

“They let you take the bottle?” Sherlock glanced at Mycroft.

Mycroft raised an eyebrow.

“Of course,” Sherlock replied. “You pay enough, they don’t question anything.”

“Do keep up brother mine,” Mycroft said. 

They began walking, passing the bottle between each other like the derelicts that they passed. Occasionally one would mutter an observation, while the other added to it. Soon they were playing the deduction game of their youth, trying to distract themselves from what was going on underneath. 

Mycroft knew exactly what was going on -- it was what they did as children whenever things were too much. Wander the countryside for house, passing illicit cigarettes, watching other hikers and making judgments. 

“Is there a point to this?” he finally asked. They had wandered through the city, ending up passing through Bethnel Green. Mycroft had purchased two kebabs and handed one to Sherlock who ate it between swigs from the bottle. Mycroft had finished his during the walk. 

“What do you mean?” Sherlock asked. 

“I don’t need a minder,” Mycroft burped. “I’m fine.”

Sherlock laughed. “Three times since Sherrinford is not fine,” he said. “It’s obvious that you’re not doing well after what our dear sister did,” he passed the bottle to Mycroft, “Not to mention, Mummy is still displeased by what you did.”

Mycroft took a drink. “They don’t understand that the plan was put into motion before I came into power,” he rambled. “By that point, it seemed prudent to continue.” 

Sherlock remained silent. 

“I just realized,” Mycroft squinted, staring across the canal. “I believe we can see Doctor Hooper’s flat from here. Light’s out, but I know we’ve got a good view of the front of her flat. You could see into her kitchen if you were inclined.”

“Indeed,” Sherlock got a cigarette out and lit it. He lit the last one and handed it to Mycroft.

“My God we are a couple of messes.”

“Indeed.”

“At least you know you’ve got a certain bet,” Mycroft slurred. “Doctor Hooper will forgive you if you tell her the truth,” he remembered the look of dawning realization on Sherlock’s face in the room. “You know what you said is true.”

“Well if you didn’t go running in the middle of the night as your wont lately,” Sherlock began. “What did the newly minted DI Sally Donovan say?”

Mycroft gave Sherlock a side-eyed glare. “Of course you knew,” he sighed, “I’m surprised you didn’t say anything earlier.”

“I needed confirmation from the network,” Sherlock chuckled. “Inspector Lestrade wasn’t available?”

Mycroft chuckled. For some reason the darkness made him feel safer, like he was at a confessional, instead of handing his little brother ammunition for the next time they battled. “I tried once,” he said. “The man is impervious to all attempts at seduction. He thinks part of it is in jest and part of it is out of pity.”

“Mmm,” Sherlock hummed, “Doesn’t help that he’s just out of a long-term marriage which occurred when he was young. Those people seem especially dense when it comes to flirtation.”

“Not to mention he is like the big brother you deserve and I wouldn’t want to ruin that,” Mycroft inhaled deeply, then blew out a stream of smoke. 

“The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb,” Sherlock murmured. “Thank you.”

“One of my mercies,” Mycroft replied.

Another silence lingered. How long had they been standing there? Mycroft could hear the beginning of birds chirping, hinting at dawn. The alcohol was humming in his bloodstream albeit it was fading. But hours later, he could still feel Sally’s touch on his skin and her whispering in his ear. Part of him yearned to be back in bed with her instead of sitting -- when did that happen? -- with his brother along a canal, staring at a flat like some sad lovesick fool.

“You’re thinking of her,” Sherlock said. “Go back and explain yourself.”

“It’ll wear off,” Mycroft said. “It always does.”

“And you’ll be back in this position soon feeling terrible about yourself and martyring yourself,” Sherlock snorted. 

“You should go explain yourself.”

“You first.”

Before Mycroft could start another round of “you first”, which would have gone on until the last syllable of recorded time, his phone chimed and he quickly glanced at it. 

_ You forgot your cufflinks. -- SD _

He blinked, then checked the message again. No recriminations, no anger. Just the plain fact that he had been foolish and forgotten them when he left that night.  

The universe was forcing him to make a move. He cursed the universe. It was tempting to leave the cufflinks behind, a reminder for her of their encounter, but they were a gift from Uncle Rudy when he started in MI-6 and he was loathe to lose them, even if Uncle Rudy was a bastard at times. 

Hopefully Sally would be kind when he saw her, Mycroft thought.

“Bwak,” Sherlock clucked.

“Pardon?”

“Bwak,” Sherlock repeated again, “That’s what you speak isn’t it, you chicken?”

The irritation of his little brother rose up and made Mycroft act before thinking. Mycroft stood, then shoved Sherlock hard. Losing his footing, Sherlock fell into the canal with a loud yell and splash.

“What was that for?” Sherlock sputtered as he surfaced. 

Even though it was tempting to let him flounder, Mycroft bent down and grabbed Sherlock’s arm, helping him climb up the canal wall. 

“Well now,” Mycroft said, after Sherlock had made it out, “I suppose you’ll need some dry clothes. I believe you have a change of clothes at Doctor Hooper’s, which is right over there,” he pointed to the flat, a pinprick of light showing in the kitchen window. “Isn't it fortunate that she's awake to let you in?”

Before Sherlock could reply, he turned and began the long walk back to get his cufflinks.


	5. Chapter 5

Gaining access to the hotel room was simple enough, since Mycroft still had his keycard. Sliding it in the reader, the door beeped, then there was an electric whirring sound as the lock unlocked. The light flashed from red to green and he sucked in a breath, steeling him for whatever came next.

No screams or recriminations greeted him. Indeed, the room was quiet, bathed in the golden glow of the dawn, sunlight streaming in through the window. The smell of sex was stale, but his memory flashed back to being entwined with Sally, luxuriating in bed with her. 

There was no sign of Sally in the room. Had she left? Part of him wished she hadn’t, because it was so expected. Of course she would then leave, the sting of rejection too strong for her to remain in the room. 

Battling those thoughts, he spied the cufflinks on the nightstand, undisturbed from their first encounter. He pocketed them and turned to leave as quickly and quietly as he came.

That’s when he spied the bathroom door open a crack. And heard the music softly playing -- a funky syncopated rhythm of hand claps punctuated with a jangly guitar.  _ Worship me, on your knees, faithfully, quietly, patiently, worship me _ the woman sang out in a full, rich voice. 

Later he would blame it on the hours walking with Sherlock, the alcohol, the sobering two hour walk back and his sleep-deprived state for not noticing it earlier. But in the moment, he gulped, padding over to peek in the crack. 

She hadn’t left, he quietly cursed his fate. Instead, she was lounging in the marble bath, milky-white water covering everything but the tops of her perfectly ordinary breasts and her knees, which were poking out like islands. He could smell cocoa butter, vanilla and oranges. Her hair was tied up in a loose bun and sweaty tendrils clung to her neck. Her eyes were closed and she was singing along with the song. 

His mouth watered as the sight of her. Mentally he cursed her, wondering how she could be so blase about his leaving. Didn’t he affect her the same way she left an impact on him? He wanted to storm in there, haul her out of the bath and throw her on the bed and bring her to edge again and again with his mouth and fingers until he knew for certain that she wasn’t going to take such an indifferent attitude about him. Only then would he satisfy himself, knowing that she wasn’t going to forget him.

Her eyes opened and she turned to meet his. “Come on in,” she said with a lazy smile. She leaned over and picked up a bottle of champagne and a flute. “I’ve only got one flute, but we can share.”

Oh he was going to punish her for torturing him the way she did all night, he was certain of that. 

Mycroft grabbed a flute off the table and entered the bathroom. The mirror was steamed over from the humidity and he found himself unbuttoning his suitcoat and undoing his tie and collar as a result. Even with the foggy glass, he could see his disheveled appearance. His face was covered in stubble and his hair was wilder looking with some stray bits sticking out wildly. There was a spot of tahini on his tie and he could see grease drips on his shirt. He looked like what he was -- a sad middle aged man who had been wandering all night to avoid his problems.

He poured himself a glass, then manners took over. “I’m sorry for the way I left,” he began.

Sally shrugged, then took a sip. “Mycroft,” she began, “This isn’t my first time I’ve woken up in a hotel alone. At least you were a gent and paid the bill.”

That was even more insulting. How dare she she say his behavior was like other encounters? He was not  _ ordinary _ . 

“To be honest, I’m surprised you came back,” Sally’s voice drew him out of his head. “I figured you’d send a messenger for the cufflinks or something.”

“I was in the area,” he lied. Judging by the quirk of her lips, she knew he was lying. Sally was indeed smarter than the initially appeared, Mycroft mused. It certainly felt unfair that she was able to read him so well after one night.

“Did you get them?” 

He nodded, finishing his glass, then placed it on the sink.

“Well, then it’s been good, yeah?” she said. “I figured you got everything out of your system, so maybe you’ll be heading out then?”

Mycroft blinked. How the hell was he being dismissed by her? Mycroft Holmes was never dismissed by anyone, let alone a Scotland Yard Inspector. “Do you want me to leave?” he croaked, angry at how vulnerable he sounded.

She tilted her head, studied him and smiled. “I won’t lie,” she said. “I can tell you’re out of sorts. No, I don’t want you leave.”

He exhaled a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“But I won’t keep you here if you don’t want to be here,” she said. 

“I’m --” he started. 

“Oh don’t lie,” she put the flute down and rested her arms on the edge of the tub and looked up at him. “After all that we’ve done to each other and for each other, a little honesty would be good. Are you afraid I can’t handle the truth? You’re not the first one who’s left in the middle of the night, nor are you the first who has done something like this and then regretted it later.”

That continued to needle him, knowing he was ordinary in his behavior and, even worse, that it was nothing new to her. How on earth could anyone treat her like that?  _ Well you did _ , his brain helpfully reminded him. 

“I didn’t mean to --” he began.

“Oh I was disappointed,” she admitted, “but this isn't my first time at the disappointment fun fair.”

“That sounds like every single fun fair I was forced to go to as a child,” Mycroft mused. A slight flush of pride coursed through him as he realized she was disappointed he left. At least she had suffered a little bit.

Sally chuckled. “You had a childhood? I always thought you sprung fully grown from your mother’s womb with a three-piece suit and a disgusted expression.”

Now it was his turn to laugh. “If you ask her, that is what happened exactly. I was too serious as a child.”

Sally smiled. It was so strange to see someone so unguarded around him -- someone who actually seemed to enjoy his company. 

“Are we having a moment?” she asked after studying him for a moment with a soft expression.

“Supposedly.”

“You didn’t just come back for the cufflinks did you?” The expression was more guarded, but she hadn’t completely shut herself away from him. It wasn’t confidence. It was honesty and he liked it. The lack of fucks she had was refreshing.

In that moment, he realized that she was beautiful in a way that few people were. She had seen him at his coldest, most icy formality, which normally put other people off, but she verbally sparred with him, relishing the combat. She heard his inelegant proposition and had accepted it with gusto. He left her, then returned like some bedraggled stray cat, only to find her greeting him with good humor at his foolishness. 

Not to mention, in the past twenty-four hours she had smiled at him in a way that no one else had.

Mycroft wondered why he was fighting this. True it might end in broken hearts -- everything did to be honest -- but even then, it was clear that both of them would survive. It’d probably be worse to not to agree to an arrangement with her,  he rationalized. It would probably be easier to be honest with her, lay down the siege weapons that kept him isolated, open the gates to her and allow her in and to make herself at home. Like a lot of immigrants coming to London, Mycroft realized that she would make his life richer in ways he hadn’t anticipated. 

He shook his head. 

She grinned. “I knew it.” Sally rose up as he bent down to meet her lips. Her kiss was warm and welcoming.  _ When you surrender, the problem ceases to exist _ , he thought as he opened his mouth and really savored the moment, committing everything to memory. The sound of her sigh, the warmth of her body, the goosebumps as his hands held onto her arms, pulling her up from the bath. His arms wrapped around her and she melded her body to his, hands digging into his back. 

There was a knock on the door and the sound of a door unlocking. 

“Room service,” a voice rang out, breaking the spell. Mycroft protectively moved, covering her body with his.

Sally pulled away giggling. “Just leave it there, thank you,” she called over Mycroft’s shoulder.

“Yes ma’am,” the bellhop said. There was the sounds of many carts being brought into the room. As they listened, Sally bit her lower lip to tamp down the laughter. Then there were the sounds of someone exiting. 

Sally let out a long exhale. “Well, you’re just in time for breakfast,” she said. “I was peeved enough to order everything on the menu,” she began giggling as she said her next confession: 

“And I was going to nick a dressing gown.”

Mycroft chuckled, flattered that she was upset enough to do something so petty. “I thought that might happen,” he said, dipping low to place a kiss along her neck. “So I put that on the bill also.”

“Clever boy,” Sally sighed, as his mouth moved along her shoulders. “Breakfast is getting cold though.”

He pulled away and glanced at her. Giving a solicitous smile that didn’t match the hunger in his eyes, Mycroft said, “Breakfast can wait,” before putting his mouth to better use.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! The end!
> 
> Thank you to GS Jenner and Occasionally Creative for helping me with beta work and working through neurosis and other character meat. 
> 
> Thank you for reading and I hope it brought you a little bit of joy in these dark times. 
> 
> Also, the song Sally is listening to is Worship from Lizzo. Great, great song by a great rapper.


End file.
